I had no idea I had fallen back asleep until the bright sun was streaming through my window. I felt refreshed as I stretched and laughed at my crazy dog. His head was on the pillow next to me as if he owned the house. He was about to get a rude awakening when Ren moved in.
My heart started racing at the thought. I sat up in bed, making Max grumble and jump off, side-eyeing me. I followed him out to the back door and let him out so I could think.
I’m marrying Ren. Ren is moving in here. She’s going to be my wife. My wife.
Grammy was going to be so happy. I wasn’t sure what my parents would think when I told them the news after filling them in on what happened to Grammy.
For right now, though, I had other things to attend to. I wiped my hand over my mouth and looked around my house. She was an interior designer, and I had no idea what she would think of my house.
“I mean, she is going to move in with me, right?” Man, I had so many things to talk to her about. Grateful to have taken a few personal days off, I checked the clock on my stove. I’d slept later than I had in months.
“Nine o’clock. She should be up, I guess. Probably should stop talking to myself before all this goes down.”
Starting a pot of coffee, I dialed Ren’s number. I took a few deep breaths as I waited. She picked up on the second ring.
“Buongiorno, Mike. How are you?” Her sleepy voice sent a zing down my spine. Even her voice was gorgeous.
“Good morning. Sorry, did I wake you up?” Pinching the phone between my shoulder and cheek, I poured the biggest cupof coffee I’ve ever had. I needed the caffeine for what I’d face today.
“No, no. I was lying here…thinking.” I could hear the rustle of what I assumed was sheets. She yawned and said, “Sorry. I think I could’ve slept another four hours. Did you hear from the hospital? I was hopeful she’d had a good night when there were no messages from you last night.”
I smiled at her mention of Grammy. “I called at six, but they said she had more tests and asked me to wait a few hours since she’d need to rest after them. They know I’d spend the day there waiting for those few minutes with her, but I’ll go around lunchtime. I took off a few days from work so I’m free to come and go as they let me,” I said, savoring the rich taste of the coffee, wondering how Ren took hers.
“Okay, well, I’ll get ready and go with you. I can take an Uber to the hospital.” I could hear her walking, and the sound of the ocean grew louder. I could picture her out on the deck of Luke’s cottage, wind blowing through her hair.
“No, I’ll come get you. Thinking about eleven?”
“Okay, if you’d like. But I’m fine just meeting you there. I guess we do still have so much to talk about.” It was becoming more obvious how independent she was and how unaccustomed she was to someone taking care of her.
“I’ll come get you, so that’s settled. And yeah, I was thinking about that when I got up. Thinking about how you like your coffee, if you’re a morning person or a night owl. Ren, ah, youdowant to move in with me, right? You could have your own room. I mean, at first.” The last sentence came out lower, as I was suddenly embarrassed.
Good grief, I should have had that part of our talk in person.
The long pause made me nervous. I scratched my head and was about to say something when she answered.
“I’ve thought about that, too. A separate room is a given. But, living together seems necessary for the immigration process,” she said.
As much as I knew we weren’t anywhere near sharing a room together, her matter-of-fact tone about it stung a bit. It sounded like we were about to be roommates, not husband and wife.
“Of course, of course. No, you’re right,” I stammered.
“Well, until we can talk in person, I’ll answer your first questions. I love espresso. Strong and creamy when done right. No milk or sugar, since that’s an abomination to everything I believe in. Won’t catch me drinking one of those industrial-size mugs of brown liquid Americans call coffee,” she scoffed.
I shook off my unease and made a note on my phone to buy an espresso machine. I’d even drink from those ridiculously tiny cups if that made her happy, although I had no idea how she got enough caffeine from them. I’d have to drink about ten of them every morning.
Dude, you’re going to need a pallet full of espresso beans from Costco.
I looked at my huge mug of so-called ‘brown liquid.’ “I feel very judged right now,” I grumbled.
“No worries. I’ll make you a real cup of coffee. As my Nonno used to say, it will make you a man and put hair on your chest,” she said, her smile evident in her voice.
A little flirting with my fiancé was allowed, I hoped. “Eh, we’ll see. Besides, I’m already all man and have had hair on my chest since senior year of high school.”
She answered me, but her voice was so low over the sound of crashing waves that I wondered if I was mistaken.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Hmm? Nothing,” she sang.
